What God Did Not Plan on
by Fallen Angel3
Summary: Read & find out! ^^ PS: There are MANY, MANY shonen ai undertones (boy/boy relationships) concerning Seph. ^^; Side Note: You will notice "Sleep Well" and "Weep Well". They are references to a Stan Rice poem called "What God Did Not Plan On". Hence, the n
1. Default Chapter

NOTE: The characters, places, beings, etc., etc., etc. are NOT MINE and belong to their respective owners. Any similarities between created characters and those living and/or dead is pure coincidence. Please don't hurt me in any way shape, and/or form because of my opinion on any or all of the characters. If you don't like my point of view, you are not being forced to read this story and may leave at any time. Now, on to the story!  
  
  
  
He awoke on the morning of Sunday, June the twelfth with a start.   
"Seph?" he asked the empty room. "Seph?"  
It seemed another day had begun and his love had left once again before sunrise. His beloved Sephiroth was always up early tending to one duty or another. At the moment, they were laid up in Costa Del Sol, awaiting complete orders on the Nibelheim mission. It struck the boy as odd that his lover was gone on such a day. It was, after all, Sunday, and Sephiroth always spent Sunday mornings with him. The youth was now stuck in the sleazy hotel room until Seph returned, for the boy feared getting lost without his love. For the time being, he was going to stay at the hotel and wait for Sephiroth's return.  
The hotel room itself was plain. After the latest military budget cut, hotels had gone down in cost and up in seediness. The tacky green carpet clashed violently with the dark pink sheets, which in turn clashed with the brown draperies. The small bathroom was an odd shade of green, as was the small desk located in a small corner of the room. The desk, of course, was littered with Sephiroth's mess of papers.   
After taking a good look around the tiny hotel room, the young man got up to close the drapes on the east wall. The sun burned brightly and hurt his eyes. After the curtains were successfully closed, the SOLDIER went back to bed.   



	2. Sleep Well

Sleep never came easy to Sephiroth. His heart hurt, as did his mind and soul. He could not stop thinking about Costa Del Sol… or the girl. His mind raced over the facts that he had gained in the last twenty-four hours. None of it seemed to fit together. Attacked… screams of agony… a charred face…….."No!" he cried.  
"Seph?" the boy muttered in his sleep. His eyelids fluttered and then closed again, too weary to awaken.   
Sephiroth brought the boy closer to his body, stroking the man-child's raven locks as he did so. "Sleep well," he whispered, "Weep well." He bent over to kiss the boy, but decided against it, preferring not to awaken his sleeping angel. It was well after midnight, and Sunday was already looking beautiful. All seemed peaceful enough. Suddenly, there was a slight rapping at the door.   
After settling the boy's head on the pillow, the great Sephiroth stepped out of bed. He was naked besides a pair of plain boxers and a loose white tee shirt. He pulled on a pair of jeans that had been hanging over the chair, and proceeded to open the door. In the doorway stood a man of tall stature. His dark brown hair came to his shoulders and was arranged in no particular order. Bright, emerald eyes shone out in the darkness. His face was thin and almost paper white. The rest of the man was covered in a dark, velvet cape that touched the floor.   
"Hello?" Sephiroth asked, trying to keep his cool. The man had, after all, disturbed him in the middle of the night.   
"I'm looking for a man known as Sephiroth. Do you know where I can find him?" the stranger asked.  
"I am he. What do you need to see me for?"  
"I come an account of your creator, Mr. Hojo. I have been given permission by him and other authorities to let you see the paperwork on how and why you were created."  
"Hojo? Created? What?" Sephiroth's face displayed a look of bewilderment of fear. …I don't understand…  
"Please gather your things as you will not be back for several nights. Oh yes, and please bring your sword. I am eager to see you in action." Sephiroth turned around to grab his masunume, and as he did so, felt a fist connect with the back of his lower neck. The floor raced up at him. "Be still," the man said, "it will only hurt for a moment." A stabbing pain rocketed through his body, and then located itself in the side of his neck. The feeling was both new and disturbingly familiar. Attempting to move his body, two more sharp pangs, located beneath his shoulder blades, attacked him. Sephiroth was pinned down under the man's weight. Darkness enfolded him.  
"Sleep well," he whispered.  
"Weep well." the stranger finished. The great warrior's body lay limp in the center of a cheap hotel room. The man stood up, grabbed the masunume, and turned to the desk. After locating a pen and paper, he wrote a Stan Rice poem on the sheet. He focused his attention on the boy, then on the man, both of whom were in a dreamless sleep. The strange man left the room, carrying the warrior in his arms like a child, and the sword tucked into his belt. The hotel room was once again a peaceful refuge from the night.   



End file.
